


No Good Deed

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Mind Manipulation, Stalking, Woman on Top, Yandere, super speed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 16:37:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15147338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: Okay, so he knocked over that museum on a dare.  How was he supposed to know the thing he stole actually was magic, and he handed it over to a megalomaniac?  Peter Maximoff tries to fix his mistakes before they come around on him; with Supergirl on the scene, that's a bit too little, too late.





	No Good Deed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wipvanwrinkle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wipvanwrinkle/gifts).



It started innocently.

Well, as innocently as a heist from a museum could be.  It wasn’t even that he wanted whatever was on display, or that the money he was offered to steal it was ridiculous.  Peter had no idea how the man had found out about him; he’d kept lowkey.  It was that the person offering him the job hyped up the security system as unbeatable.  Pressure plates, barred doors, lasers, the works.  Then he bet Peter that he couldn’t steal it.

It was easy.  All those impregnable security systems were made to stop normal people; maybe also some big dumb brute who could smash things better than a normal person.  They weren’t meant to stop someone who could move faster than the sensors could react.  By the time the electronic security registered he’d found his way in, he was already at the exhibit.  By the time the pressure plate noticed the mask was gone, he was out of the room.  By the time the doors automatically were barred, he was already down the street.

Everything moved in slow motion to him.  If he really applied himself, he probably could be so much more effective a criminal.  Standing in a parking lot, going into a store, and exiting with his brand-new stereo in the blink of an eye was fun, but there was nothing to it.  The museum didn’t really make him break a sweat.  It was a good thing for the world that he pretty much wanted to confine himself to petty larceny and criminal mischief; because nothing could keep up with him.

As least, until _her_.  Supergirl.  As he was crossing the city, mask slung on his backpack, he came upon light, sirens, and a few craters.  She had just beaten down some other chick that was causing mayhem, and honestly, he kinda wished he had done the break in five minutes earlier or later so he could’ve seen that.  Super powered catfights were kinda a thing for him.  He passed by her to get a better look; tits looked a little bigger on TV somehow, but she was still hot.

He nearly had a heart attack as he was gawking at her face when he noticed her eyes met his and tracked him.

On a level, he knew she was fast.  But finding out she was fast enough to at least get a good look at him while he was fleeing from the single biggest theft he had was a little worse.  Luckily, some cop came up to talk and Supergirl turned her attention away from him.  That was good.

He generally didn’t think he’d ever have a problem with her.  He _was_ a supercriminal, in that he had certain natural gifts which he used to commit crimes.  He _wasn’t_ a supercriminal in that his crimes rarely rose above the misdemeanor level, and the most harm he’d ever done someone was bruise a few egos or make someone look like an idiot in the blink of an eye.  He had no plans on declaring himself Overlord of National City or whatever.  She was saving falling airliners and fighting the kind of superpowered idiot who would declare themselves the Overlord of National City. 

So, that wrapped up, he went to deliver the stupid mask to the guy who bet he couldn't beat the museum's security.  Peter was in no mood to listen to him ramble, so he just handed over the mask, told the man to have fun putting it on his mantle or whatever, then ran off, outrunning the dude's crazed rant.

* * *

* * *

There was nothing to do but bask in triumph at the fact that everyone was baffled as to how that mysterious Greek mask was stolen from the special museum exhibition.  Okay, that _was_ a felony, but he’d only done it to prove he could.  It was all fun and games, until a week later, he was watching T.V., and saw that the mysterious museum heist had been solved, sort of.  The police had found the mask!  The only problem it was attached to the head of a supervillain.

Apparently the rambling that his ‘boss’ had done about the mask’s power was legit, because someone went into a bank wearing it and talked the tellers into giving him all the money, and made the customers all grovel, and laugh, and cry, and scream, and laugh.  Some hadn’t stopped.  And all he had on him was a bad Halloween costume and a mask.

He hit up another bank, before interrupting some corruption trial and convincing the bailiff that he was so sad, had such a menial, thankless job, that he might as well pitch himself out the window.  Which the man did; thankfully it was on the first floor.  The masked man did that just by talking.  It was a power thing; the emotions of National City were his plaything.  At least, that’s what a female reporter who left with him, smiling said he'd told her to say.  She still hadn't left the psych ward after he let her go.

Peter fucked up, no doubt about it.  He thought what he was doing was just swapping some old piece of metal from a well-insured nonprofit group to some greedy jackass, on a dare.  This?  He didn’t mean for something like this to happen.  How was he supposed to know the mask actually had power?

He could fix this.

Finding a man in bright red and black with a cape and a golden mask was harder than it sounded, even at superspeed.  Waiting for him to make a move was excruciating though; Peter was too fast for the world, everything took too long. 

But, eventually the man did make a move on City Hall.  He was there as fast as he heard, but she was there first.   Supergirl and the man in the golden mask were glaring at one another.  He had _no_ desire to see what the crazy asshole with mind control powers would do with someone who could juggle a tank.

Just getting close to him felt wrong.  He could feel his heart speed up, warmth coursing through him, something was wrong.  He crossed the steps to City Hall faster than anyone else even could, under a second.  And it still was way too long.  He skidded to a halt at the edge of the street, watching his employer, sans mask, saying something… right up until the point Supergirl flicked him between the eyes with her middle finger, sending him flying.

Having done his good deed for the day, he turned to leave, only to hear a “Wait!”

She was behind him.  Right behind him.  Crap, she was fast.  He forced himself to calm down, realizing he was holding the creep’s golden mask in his hands.  Oh, had to be evidence.  He handed it to her, nodding sagely when she crushed it in her bare hands, then pitched the mass over the horizon.  Good plan, good plan.

“Thank you” She said, smiling genuinely.  He returned it.  “He’s been causing all sorts of trouble.  So thank you for getting his mask off.”

“No problem.”  Was this a superhero teamup?  Like, guessed this made him a superhero now.  He’d helped stop a crazy mind controller, nevermind the fact that he’d gotten the mask for the guy in the first place. 

The pause was awkward, she and him were just staring as a few cops broke away from their circle around the mind controller, and Supergirl kept staring at him.  Smiling.

“So… what’s your name?” She asked.

“Uh, Peter.”

“And why were you here today?”

“Just a concerned citizen.” Peter said with a nod.

“And why were you running away from the museum a few weeks ago?” 

Aw crap.

He tried to think of something, when Supergirl stated the obvious.  “The security _barely_ registered something moving through the display room, very, very quickly.”

“I had nothing to do with whatever it is your talking about.”

“You stole it, for him.” Her eyes narrowed, mouth quirked.  She started to tense up.

“Uh… yeah.” Okay, she pretty much had everything right.  “But… I thought it was just a piece of jewelry, alright?  I had no idea any of this would happen!”

“Yeah… but you still stole it.” She said, with an out-of-place grin not matching her tone at all.  “And I think you should be punished for it.”

Peter Maximoff would normally say he was good at a lot of things.  He looked good, good luck with the ladies, good sense of humor.  He was a good criminal; nobody ever got hurt when he did his thing.

Of course, what he really was good at was running.  The cops just saw the person Supergirl had been chatting with turn into a _blur_ as he broke into a sprint.  He did not want to take the fall for this, even if it kinda was his fault.

“Oh, a race?”  He almost tripped when he heard that, rapidly switching from looking forward to the blue and red blur at the corner of his vision.  “I’ve done this before… although the stakes are higher this time.”

He said nothing as sweat started to bead his forehead.  He could shake her.  He definitely could.

“You really are playing hard to get.” Her tone was wrong.  After how he fucked up, he’d expected righteous indignation from the girl scout.  Maybe anger over everything he did.  She sounded happy.  He wasn’t playing hard to get. He skidded and pulled a ninety-degree turn, running over an oncoming car that, to him, might as well have been standing still.

“That looked dangerous.” She wasn’t breathing hard.  Still conversational.  “Might have to stop you right now, before you hurt yourself.”

He pumped his legs faster, fast as he could.  Out the corner of his eye, the red-and-blue streak fell back and disappeared.  He kept running, feeling his heart pound in his chest.  He didn’t hear her voice, didn’t see her in her peripheral, but he was not going to slow down to check behind him.  He had to get out of the city, find some time to think how to get out of this.  She’d seen him, that was fine; she didn’t know him.  Granted, there weren’t that many teen-to-twentysomethings with silver hair, but still… 

His lungs began to burn and he allowed himself to slow down and glance behind him, seeing nothing at all.  When he turned to look in front, he was a split second too late in realizing the difference the second he took his eyes off the road had made.

He was heading for a sheet of ice.

He hit it at high speed.  His running shoes weren’t meant to handle ice, and he slipped and did his best to regain his balance as he slid, bleeding velocity as he did.  He finally lost any semblance of footing and pitched forward, shutting his eyes before he hit the curb. 

He never did. 

Arms looped under his, and he was lifted up.  The sensation of leaving the ground was disconcerting.  He kicked his legs against the air futilely, earning nothing but a girlish laugh in his ear. 

“Huh.  Looks like I won the race.”  She said, curling her left arm around his torso.  Her right hand tousled his hair.  “Now then, what do I get for a prize?”

She punctuated this point by grabbing Peter’s crotch.

 _That_ was unexpected.

“Uh… what was the mind-control guy trying to do to you?” Just from what little he gathered on the news, he could manipulate emotions.  Make people happily hand over their life’s work, or so sad they would try to pitch themselves out of windows, SWAT team had turned murderously angry and paranoid at one another. 

And he was only around for a split second before he had snatched the mask off, but the heat he had felt, the crazy tingling in the back of his head… in retrospect it was suspiciously like lust.  As she gripped the front of his pants and _ripped_ , Peter had a sinking feeling he was completely right in what Psycho-Pirate had been trying to instill in the superheroine.

“Nothing at all.” She whispered in his ear.  She lowered them to a rooftop and he tried to bolt as soon as his feet hit it, but she held him firmly, one hand around his torso, the other on his crotch.  She literally had him by the balls. 

“So, why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to.” She laughed, before forcing him on his back, straddling him.  The warm fabric of her underwear against his dick felt really good.  Her right hand was on his throat, and she raised her left, slowly curling it into a fist.  “Now then….”

He flinched as she slammed her fist down, arms covering his face, as if that’d actually work.  Thankfully, she was aiming for the patch of roof next to him, which audibly cracked.  The roof _shook_ beneath them.

“…I’m going to stand up now.  You’re going to be good and not make me chase you again, right?” She was smiling, but the crazy look in her eyes said it all.  He believed she’d really hurt him if he ran, and she _could_ catch him.

She got up and took a few steps away.  Peter sat up as she looked over her shoulder, smirking a little.  Her eyes _glowed_ for a split second, and he was still.  She bit her lower lip and began disrobing.  She let her cape flutter to the ground, followed by her shirt.  She kicked out of her boots and turned.  He mentally slapped himself for staring at her tits when she just punched through a roof right next to his head.

She smiled and took a few steps towards him.  “Y’know, sometimes, I get a little self conscious… I worry if anyone ever stared up my skirt while flying.  You wouldn’t do that, would you, Peter?”

He meant to say ‘no’.  What he blurted out was “Never had the chance.”

“You perv.” She laughed.  Well, at least he wasn’t _pissing her off_.  She pulled down her skirt, too.  Her panties matched her skirt and joined them on the ground right quick.  She leaned over him again.  “I see you’re excited for this…”

She prodded his crotch with her foot and grinned.

“…but you’re going to have to work off your sentence, first.”  She grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him close, right up against her vagina.  He looked forward, then up, into her bright eyes, looking down at him expectantly.  “C’mon, you know what to do, right?”

“Uh… mpphgh!” Came out as she pulled his head right up against her, his mouth against her slit. 

“Runners are supposed to have good lung capacity…” She began to chide, before shuddering as he finally began to lick.  Fast, light movements of his tongue.  Yeah, he was best at running, but every muscle he had was wired for speed.  Admittedly, this felt like something out of a sexual fantasy he had before.

Except he was supposed to be the one giving directions.

“You are good at this…” She cooed, tightening her grip.  She rocked her hips against his face.  On one level, he was amazed at how gentle she was in her motions; yeah, he ached where she’d grabbed onto his hair, but she could bench press tanks.  She could’ve crushed his skull like an eggshell if she wasn’t careful.  Most of him was focused on doing a good a job as he could, so as not to piss off Supergirl and make her crush his skull.

She rocked her hips and he licked at her, paying special attention to her clitoris.  She was moaning, clearly into it, muttering words of encouragement between little gasps.  The problem was no girl he’d gone down on ever lasted nearly as long as she had if he really got going.  His jaw was getting tired.  He mumbled something against her slit, and she looked him in the eyes, cocked her head to the side, and laughed.

“Enough foreplay?” She teased, releasing his hair and pushing him back to the roof.  She tore the rest of his clothes off, covering the roof in shredded fabric, while looking him up and down appreciatively.

“Hm…”  She shoved him back to rooftop and straddled him again.  After a few agonizingly long seconds of her lining herself up, teasingly wiggling her hips, she dropped down, all the way to his hilt. 

She was tight.  He gasped an “Oh fuck.”

“Language” She chided, wriggling her hips side to side with him inside her, hands on his shoulders pressing him into the roof.  Then she lifted herself up, and dropped down, again and again and again.  He just laid there, letting her pick the pace.  Until she ran her hands along his sides, poking at his ribs.  “C’mon, don’t just lay there”

When the indestructible, superstrong, superfast woman whose common sense had been overridden with lust gave an order, Peter was smart enough to obey.

She was warm and tight and she was moving rapidly, even for him.  He tried his best to match her pace; hoping to avoid getting hurt while she was impaling herself on him.  She felt great around him, but the force she was applying was getting painful.  The pressure of her hands on his shoulders was hurting him, he was starting to feel pins and needles down both his arms, and her hips slamming against his were getting less measured.  She still had a fantastic amount of control, but he knew he’d be sore when this was all over.

He was getting close; he could feel the tension building in his muscles.  She was having the time of her life, moaning and groaning, but he had no clue if she was sated, or how she’d react if he came without getting her off.  He pressed a hand against her, thumb finding her clit, and he began moving in a rapid circle.  She whined, and he took that as a good sign.

He kept at it, while she became more erratic in her motions.  More forceful.  She dug her nails into his shoulders hard enough to make him scream before she left go. Suddenly she pitched forward and yelled in his ear loud; muscles twitched and he exploded inside her second afterward.

They laid together panting, loose blond hair covering his face.  She only needed a second to catch her breath though, and she got up, something thick dripping down between her legs.  He needed more than a second; he’d never cum like that before, but the afterglow was mostly feeling like he’d been run over by a Mack truck. 

She was already dressed by the time he pried himself to a sitting position, groaning.  “Have you learned your lesson, Peter?”

“I think you broke my pelvis.” He muttered, gingerly getting himself to his feet.  Oh god, his legs were numb.  Skin where she’d gripped him too tightly was red, and a little trickle of blood issued where her nails dug into his shoulders.

“Nope.” She stared at his crotch, then looked back up at him and smiled.  “X-ray vision.”

He groaned at that.

“Now then, Peter.  I _am_ going to be keeping my eye on you.  Very closely.  So, I hope you don’t mind being on your best behavior going forward.”

* * *

He got home late. 

First, he had to find a new set of clothes.  Shoplifting naked was not the most dignified moment in his career.  She at least had been good enough to leave his socks and shoes intact; the only way the day could end more bizarrely was if he stepped on something, tripped, and then had to explain why his bare ass just appeared in the men’s section of the ailing mall department store.

He came home mismatched, ill-fitting, and sore. 

The blond woman on the steps of his house, waiting for him was another surprise.  She looked at him and smiled.  She was really familiar, despite the tied-back hair and glasses.  “Hello, Mister Maximoff?  My name is Kara Danvers, reporter for CatCo Worldwide Media.”

“Uh… hi…” He had a very, very distinct sinking feeling.  “How can I help you, Miss Danvers?”

“I’m following up on leads in the Psycho-Pirate case, and heard you might have some insights.”

“Psycho-Pirate?” 

“Oh, he was the man with emotion-manipulating powers that was committing throughout the city over the past few days.” She said, matter of factly.  “Drove several people insane, several people to attempt suicide.  He tried to make Supergirl fall madly in love with him, but luckily somehow his mask came off in the attempt.”

“And why would I know anything about…” He trailed off.  Yeah, there was no doubt who exactly this reporter was.  “Um… can we just skip this part?  How did you find me?”

“Not many attractive, silver-haired twentysomethings in this area.  A little digging through yearbooks turned you up.”  Why was she here?  Had Psycho-Pirate’s brainwashing worn off and she came to apologize?  “Those are nice clothes, Peter.”

They were actually the first things that sorta fit he grabbed off the rack at superspeed.  But that had nothing to do with anything.  “Uh… thanks.”

She smiled a Chesire Cat smile.  “Of course, if they were shoplifted, that’s a crime.”

He took a half step back, stopping when a powerful hand grabbed his wrist.

“I do believe I warned you to be on your best behavior, Peter.” Her grin disappeared, and she said with a mock pout.  “You just can’t be good, can you?  Guess I’ll have to punish you some more.  And it’s a shame, since you know my secret identity, I’m going to _really_ have to watch you closely to make sure you’re on the up-and-up after this.  Might have to keep reminding of why you should behave..”

“Uh…” It was plainly clear that whatever Supergirl wanted from him, she could take.  He gestured at the door, and putting on his best bold face, asked  “Care to talk about this… _in private_?”

The last few words were emphasized specifically in the hopes she’d react like she did.  She grinned, and turned to the door, glancing over her shoulder with that smile again.  She stopped on the step and held out her arm. 

He hooked his arm with hers and led the way into his home, veering towards the bedroom at her urging… thank Christ mom and his sister weren’t in town.  As they reached his room, he took a deep breath as Kara Danvers started do disrobe, not taking her eyes off of him.  He stripped to, his cock springing up, hard.  It got harder when a hand that could break every bone in his body curled around it  He probably wasn’t going to be walking straight by the time this was all over.  He looked over at the naked blonde whose grin had gotten wicked as she held him. 

There were worse things than this, he told himself.

The events of the next few hours confirmed that.

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda went "vanilla" as to the scenario, bringing in some aspects of Quicksilver from _Days of Future Past_ and ported them in to the Supergirl setting (Like he raids the Pentagon more or less on a dare, I figured that was a good way to get the ball rolling). I ended up going a bit overboard on the setup; I felt the need to have an external problem cause Kara to behave a little erratically. Hopefully it worked alright for you.


End file.
